Dragonwyck

by Anya Seton

Again she felt that formless uneasiness and oppression—the merest trickle at first but bringing with it the sensation of mounting force as though flood waters were rushing through an ever-widening breach, not touching her yet—but she knew that when they did she would be swamped with the remembered suffocating fear.

It wasn’t that she was lonely, but sometimes she longed for a friend.

Every man of achievement longs for a disciple, a younger edition of himself with whom to share the accumulated wisdom and experience of the past.

“I guess every disaster, every tragedy in the world, my lad, is caused by someone’s selfishness and refusal to recognize the rights of others.